


Sweet

by strikecommanding



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Choking, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 09:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15603750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikecommanding/pseuds/strikecommanding
Summary: Reaper becomes unexpectedly attached to his medic.





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> this is a commission piece featuring reaper who's sweet on a sweet fem reader :3 i swear it's not as dark as the tags make it sound

“You seem to be doing well, Gabriel.”

Reaper tossed a glare over his shoulder, though most of his face was obscured by the shadow cast by his hood. Then, deciding it would be more of a headache to try to dismiss Moira rather than at least humor her, he murmured, “That’s an odd thing to say to someone you’re patching up.”

Moira let out a humorless laugh, not taking her eyes off of his pale, wispy bicep as she wrapped bandages around a large wound. Sometimes, even advanced cellular regeneration wasn’t adequate in dealing with some of the injuries he received. “The reckless things you do on a regular basis would be sure suicide for a normal person, or even a super soldier. That you’re not only alive but also barely scathed is a product of my genetic work. You’ve taken well to it. Or should I say, it’s taken well to you?”

The reminder of how he’d become this way put Reaper in a sour mood, more so than usual. Once Moira was finished, he snatched his arm back from her and tugged his gloves back on, storming out of the room without another word.

Moira was a fairly recent addition to Talon, one to whom Reaper had yet to become fully acclimated. He hadn’t seen her since before Overwatch’s fall, when she turned him into this… thing. By now, he was beyond demanding a cure from her; when confronted, she would only say that the work she did in the past was only possible due to resources she no longer had. But he never missed that subtle, sinister glint in her eyes whenever they crossed paths. She always seemed to be looking at him like he was a specimen on a tray.

In short, he didn’t trust her. She could be trusted when it came to work; she wasn’t so stupid to risk the team’s lives on the field, and with them, her own life. On a long-term basis, however, he wasn’t too keen on letting her continue to patch him up so she could leer at him the way she did.

He needed a personal medic, one whom he could count on to not bring about his own destruction. When he had off-time between missions, he found himself staking out a rundown hospital in a small, isolated town. Relative to the business it saw as the only one of its kind for miles, it was severely understaffed. Reaper vaguely entertained the idea of contributing to that problem by snatching up one of its nurses or doctors for his own purposes. Anyone would be better than Moira.

He started slow with simple observation, only ever visiting the hospital at night and slinking through the shadows to look over the workers like they were items in a catalogue. They all seemed as miserable as their surroundings, and then he got an eyeful of you.

You looked young, fresh out of medical school and straight into your first full-time job. Some luck of the draw for it to be in this shithole. As if in direct contrast to your surroundings, your face was always bright with a soft, gentle smile, one you flashed to every patient and doctor with whom you interacted. It was clear in your demeanor that you only ever wanted to help, and that perhaps you wouldn’t deflate as easily as some of your more veteran co-workers. It wouldn’t be easy to break your spirit.

That was fine. You didn’t need to be broken, just easy to control.

He would come back on subsequent nights to watch you, and he quickly learned that your passion for the job was yards ahead of your actual ability. You weren’t exactly incompetent, but it was painfully obvious that this was all new to you. Not quite ready yet to jump right away at the beck and call of every doctor who needed you, or to respond efficiently to every high pressure situation. What he first perceived in you as an unceasing sense of altruism was only a partial truth; your eagerness to please stemmed from a deep desire for praise and validation, neither of which you seemed to receive very often. If all it took was a little token of praise to get you to do his bidding, then you were one hell of an exploitable resource.

Reaper couldn’t be hasty, however. Even if he could keep you on a tight leash, you had to be proficient. The last thing he wanted was to waste his time on a medic who couldn’t even do her job. If you couldn’t prove that you’d be worth the investment, he’d just have to carry on his search elsewhere. But he was already so drawn to you both by the ease with which he could control you and some force to which he couldn’t put a name, so part of him sincerely hoped that you wouldn’t disappoint.

He didn’t have the patience to wait for trouble to come to you on its own, so he elected to take matters into his own hands. That poor fuck just outside of the hospital was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and it was all too easy for Reaper to reach out to him under the cover of night and rough him up a bit. Not enough to kill him immediately, but just enough to be fatal if someone didn’t help him quick. Once he was finished, he dumped the bastard just outside the hospital doors where you would surely see him.

That night, the hospital had even less hands on deck than usual. Newbie though you were, you were the veteran tonight, since many of your more senior co-workers had either been transferred to busier floors or simply hadn’t come in at all. You jolted when you first noticed the beaten and battered man lying just outside, and Reaper half-expected you to freeze up in your tracks. He hoped you wouldn’t.

You didn’t. Though this was your first time seeing that level of gore since you started working here, you were still trained to respond to emergencies. You hadn’t been the quickest about doing that when Reaper first began watching you, but you seemed determined to turn it all around now. You flew into action immediately by wheeling over a gurney to place the patient on and quickly transported him to the trauma bay. It was a bit difficult to follow you in there considering how few shadows there were in which to hide, but he doubted you’d even notice him with your full attention on the patient.

You were the only nurse among a number of doctors all clamoring over the patient, all of whom had their own separate duties to determine the best course of action to go about next. The pressure was truly on as you alone had to handle a job that typically belonged to a team, a team that currently wasn’t here. But maybe this was exactly the right amount of pressure you needed to flourish, as you quickly and efficiently stabilized the patient’s vitals, gathered the necessary meds, and prepped him for surgery. You went with the doctors into an operating theater, but Reaper didn’t follow you there. Instead, he remained outside, waiting patiently to find out whether or not your first high-stress emergency case would end in success. 

It took just over six hours, but Reaper watched you leave the ER looking more fatigued than when you’d first walked in. You had to leap into action right from a dead night, after all. You looked tired but ultimately satisfied as you exited alongside a doctor, likely the surgeon you’d assisted, and Reaper crept in just the slightest bit to hear what the two of you were saying.

“Well that was,” the doctor sighed, “exciting. More excitement than this hospital has seen in a while.”

You smiled up at him. “You did great, Doctor. Everything went smoothly.”

He returned the gesture, and seeing the way you both looked at each other made Reaper sneer. “Give yourself some credit. If you hadn’t acted as quickly as you did, who knows if he would have even made it to the table.”

When you looked up with those starry eyes and a hint of pink dusting your cheeks, Reaper’s sneer quickly became a scowl. He knew that praise as simple as that was all it took to make you light up, but that was something he alone felt entitled to exploiting. Oblivious to it all, you simply answered, “You flatter me, sir.”

“I mean it. You did a good job in there,” the doctor insisted, and, as if to drive the point home, he rested his palm atop your head. You avoided eye contact with him, but Reaper didn’t miss the way both your smile and your blush grew deeper. “You’re good at what you do, and your talent might be wasting away in a dump like this. Have you considered requesting a transfer to our parent branch up in the city? You might be better off there.”

The mention of transferring seemed to break you out of your blushing schoolgirl daze, and the look in your eyes suggested that you were pondering his suggestion. “Really, I’m just happy to be of help anywhere…”

He smiled at you again with an added emotion to which Reaper couldn’t quite put a name, but he did know that it made him mad. “You’re sweet, but sweetness alone won’t get you far. Go home for today, and contact me if you’re at all interested in what I said.”

He left you, and you stood there alone with a pensive expression. Reaper watched that expression slowly become an endearingly goofy little grin as you went off to collect your belongings from your station, murmuring to yourself, “He called me sweet.”

Something happened, something that Reaper couldn’t quite explain, but it made his decision for him. The doctor was right: you were being wasted on a place like this. If you wanted to help out where you could, he knew of a place where you’d be of use to something far greater than a sleazy doctor who looked at you the wrong way. As he followed you out to your car in an isolated corner of the lot, Reaper had a feeling he was being influenced by something other than his desire for a personal medic. But again, it was something that was better off unnamed.

\---

The feeling of your small, bound form trembling over his shoulder was impossible to ignore as Reaper carried you through Talon headquarters. It might as well have been below freezing with the way you were shaking, but he knew better than to think the temperature was the cause. You were scared stiff from being abruptly swept away by a stranger. It would be hard in the beginning, but he was sure you’d come to adjust to life with him. If not from actual comfort, then you would at least learn to settle for the sake of survival.

You sniffled instead of sobbed, likely because your tears were all dried up by now. “Who are you?”

Reaper said nothing and focused solely on bringing you to a private room. On his way, he ran into none other than his annoying pest of a teammate, Sombra. She was at the end of the hall and showed no signs of moving, and the inquisitive quirk of her brow and her lips informed him that she wouldn’t make it easy for him to get past her. When he tried to sidestep her, she just perked up and questioned, “Whatcha got there, Gabe? A pet?”

He hefted you over his shoulder, almost defensively, as Sombra circled around to get a better look at you. Your eyes were covered and your mouth gagged, leaving only your tear-drenched cheeks exposed for her prying stare. You jolted when she abruptly poked the tip of your nose with her sharply manicured finger, and she got a good laugh out of it. Shifting you again and inadvertently getting another rise out of you, Reaper murmured, “More like… an asset.”

“Oh?” The inquisitive look on her face quickly became a suggestive one, and he took that as his cue to leave. Thankfully, Sombra decided to leave him be, but he knew he hadn’t heard the last of this matter from his nosy underling. He would deal with that when he needed to; right now, he just wanted to take you somewhere secure where few people other than himself had access to.

Stepping in and locking the door behind him, he finally let you go, and you fell with a muffled cry and an unceremonious thud. But you didn’t dare move, even as he crouched over you to rid you of your blindfold and gag. Your eyes were still squeezed shut, allowing the tears to flow freely over your cheeks, red from exertion. You flinched when he suddenly raised a hand to you and lightly dragged the tips of his claw over your skin. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

You were hesitant to obey him at first, but it seemed your survival instincts won out when you felt the drag of his claws wiping tears away just beneath your eyes. The stars that practically lined your irises when you were looking up at that doctor were gone now, snuffed out by your fear at being taken by an unknown man. Now, your eyes shone only with brimming tears.

Reaper continued stroking your cheek, waiting for you to stop trembling. When you finally stilled, you were stiff, not relaxed. Regardless, he asked you, “Do you know why you’re here?”

You stared up at him like you were trying to find his eyes behind the impenetrable blackness of his mask’s sockets. When your search predictably came up empty, your cautiously looked around the room in an effort to assess your surroundings and figure out where you were. Obviously, nothing was familiar, and he could see you come to that conclusion by your dim stare. You slowly shook your head no.

The very tips of his claws stroked gently along your jawline, and he could feel your breath catch in your throat. You were starting to tremble again, so he took firm hold of your chin and angled you up to look at him. Behind his mask, he wore a crooked parody of a smile. “It’s because you’re very good at what you do.”

\---

You couldn’t adjust right away. Of course, Reaper didn’t expect you to immediately take to being kidnapped by a wanted terrorist and mercenary who was more monster than man, for no reason other than to serve as his personal nurse. But he didn’t care about whether or not you wanted to do it; you just had to do it. You knew this as well, and since you wanted to survive, you did what you were told.

In exchange for your swift and efficient fixes to every minor bump or bruise he received on a mission, he treated you well. He made sure you were fed and taken care of, and you were allowed access to anything on base that would keep you entertained, barring weapons or communication devices. You were an asset, after all, not necessarily a prisoner.

Perhaps you could sense that Reaper didn’t mean you any harm, direct or indirect, as you slowly became more comfortable around him. At first, simply being in his presence would render you a spineless, voiceless shell of the person you used to be, and it was obvious that your every action was solely influenced by the will to stay alive. But after months of aiding him, of being in close quarters with him without so much as him raising a hand to you, you seemed to be able to relax. This was most obvious when you started talking to him during his post-mission visits.

Reaper blew into your room, the majority of his composition smoke rather than flesh for the sake of mobility. He grounded himself firmly in front of you as you sat on the edge of your bed, setting aside your book now that something much worthier of your attention had appeared. Already used to the routine, you went to fetch your medkit while he began undressing. He shucked his longcoat to the floor, pointedly keeping the mask on, and removed just as much clothing as was necessary for you to be able to access his wound. It was a long, deep gash that cut along both shoulder blades. The ninja, his own former underling, had literally stabbed him in the back.

He sat on the edge of the bed and felt it sink slightly beneath your weight as you crawled up behind him. Your wide-eyed stare was painfully obvious, and he didn’t even need to turn around to confirm it. Instead, he counted down in his head to when you would start speaking to him. “What happened today?”

He was just about half a second too slow. You were getting bolder everyday, talking more, and more frequently as well. “Visited some old friends.”

The chill of your damp washcloth as it dragged against his skin and soaked up all the blood was bracing, and the sting of the disinfectant that shortly followed was comparatively lesser. “What kind of friend does this?”

Turning his head this way and that, he rolled the kinks out of his neck and let out a deep sigh. The reflection of his mask was vaguely visible in the ends of his shotgun shells, abandoned on the floor. “The kind that I let down.”

You were quiet after that, and Reaper thought that might have killed the conversation for good. He didn’t tell you much about his past, and even less about his condition, but what little he did reveal to you included his involvement with a black ops division of a military organization. Downplayed, of course, so you wouldn’t come to the right conclusion that that organization was Overwatch. You spoke up again, but softer, “Did they used to work with you too?”

“...Yeah.”

It was only then that you stopped talking, like you could sense that he wasn’t willing to broach the topic any further. Though it wasn’t something he would ever openly admit to himself, he appreciated that you knew when you were allowed to probe and when you should hold back. You were considerate, even towards your own kidnapper, and it only emphasized what Reaper already knew: you were sweet. Even after all this time spent with a man as rotten as him, your big heart never eroded or decayed. Sometimes he felt guilty keeping it locked up all to himself, but he believed no one else had the right to it. But then that begged the question: what did he do to deserve the right to your kind heart, other than be the scumbag who kidnapped you? Once he found himself falling down that rabbit hole, he shut the thought out violently and tried to think of you as a medic, and nothing more.

Reaper’s thoughts were fortuitously disturbed by an outside force, which was the feeling of your delicate fingertips lightly pinching the skin of his bicep. He turned slightly, tossing you a vaguely curious look beneath his mask, but that only prompted you to pinch him harder. It didn’t hurt, but he decided to humor you. “Ow.”

You leaned back and returned your attention to the wound on his back, an odd, dry smile playing on your lips. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen a genuine smile on your face since the night he took you away. “That’s for going out and being reckless again.”

He let out a curt exhale, his version of a laugh. “It’s in my job description. Yours is to patch me up so I can go back out and do it all over again.”

“Well,” you replied, voice lilted with amusement, “if it keeps you coming back. It’s lonely when you’re not around.”

The shift in the atmosphere was distinct after you said that, like you’d revealed something you didn’t mean to. That suspicion was confirmed immediately by the soft gasp you emitted, surprised at yourself for speaking so candidly. But, since you respected Reaper’s privacy, he respected yours by not pressing you further. He simply sat in silence while you stiffly stitched him up and treated any other wounds he might have suffered. Once you were finished, you let him know with a gentle pat against the base of his neck, prompting him to stand and redress. He glanced at you while he did so, only to find that you were too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

Words failed him now, but even if they hadn’t, what was he supposed to say to that? At the same time, he felt like leaving on that note would have offered you no relief, so he had to do something. Ultimately, he defused the situation by raising a gentle hand to the top of your head. You stiffened just the slightest bit until he began smoothing your hair down, at which point you relaxed significantly. Reaper stayed with you like this for just a moment before abruptly leaving the room with plumes of smoke billowing behind him. At first, he tried to deny he’d seen it, but he spent the rest of the day thinking about the fact that being touched by him made you genuinely smile for the first time in months.

\---

Of all people to run into, it had to be the fucking soldier. Morrison was undoubtedly the highest name on Reaper’s hit list, but he was the last person he’d wanted to see after he was already wounded from a prior engagement. Moira’s healing sustained him long enough to get away, but now that he was back on familiar ground, he needed a more permanent fix.

He crashed into your room without much regard for grace, as he immediately hit the ground once he made it through the door. This prompted you to scramble towards him and try to help him to his feet, which was something he could barely do in his current state. You were also asking him far too many questions about what happened, where he’d been, who’d done this, all in such rapid succession it made his head spin. So he silenced you with a very decisive fist against the wall, hard enough to leave a small crater in its wake. You jolted at first and then became deathly still when he gritted out, “Fucking _fix_ me.”

Without so much as breathing a word, you nodded and hurried him over to the bed so he could lie down. You got your medkit together and began undressing him yourself, searching everywhere for his injuries since he was in too much pain to tell you. Reaper was riddled with bullet wounds, barring the helix rockets Morrison shot directly into his shoulder. He was lucky to have moved the right way at just the right time, or else those rockets would have been lodged in his heart.

You worked in very tense silence to fish out every individual bullet with a pair of forceps. Your hands were steady, but you couldn’t hide the sweat beading at your furrowed brows as you tried to work quickly and efficiently. By now, Reaper had no qualms giving you access to more advanced healthcare items than you’d known in the hospital, one of which was an experimental biotic field not unlike the ones Morrison carried around. You’d activated one immediately before you began working, alleviating Reaper’s pain just a bit. What he really needed you to do now was dig those rockets out of his flesh.

You seemed to know this too, as your eyes immediately fell on his large shoulder wound once you were finished cleaning up the smaller ones. The rockets weren’t huge, but they also weren’t so small that pulling them out would be as painless as pulling out a regular bullet. He could see the apology in your eyes as you gripped the base of the first rocket and swiftly pulled it out, like ripping a bandage. Reaper let out a grunt at the sensation, and he was fisting the sheets hard enough to tear them once you pulled out the second one. Thankfully, the worst was over now, and you moved in to clean the gaping holes they’d left in his shoulder. But something stopped you, and Reaper turned to see his cells already getting to work on rebuilding the flesh that was once there.

Because his body was focused on that one area, it was up to you to clean up the rest. You did so quietly, bandaging the smaller wounds and stitching up where bullets had overlapped. Reaper was feeling better already, partially due to the biotic field and largely due to your presence beside him. He watched you work from behind his mask until giving in to his impulse to look at you unobscured for the first time.

You were just finishing up the last stitch when he sat up abruptly, and he could see you getting ready to tell him to lie back down. But you were stunned into silence when he reached up and ripped off his mask, as he’d never revealed his face to you before. He didn’t give you much time to take in his features, instead choosing to pull you in for a deep, long-awaited kiss. You were stiff in his arms, like you didn’t know how to react, so he set the pace for you. He held you close and tight, most definitely staining your clothes with any blood that wasn’t completely cleaned off of his torso. That wasn’t an issue for long, as he deftly undressed you until you were wearing even less than him.

If you were at all opposed to being touched by him like this, it wasn’t evident in your body language. You were clinging to him like your life depended on it; Reaper supposed this was what happened when you were ripped from your old life with only a man like him to call your companion for several months. The way you held him made him feel like someone you genuinely cared about and not just a quick fix for your loneliness and hunger for affection, and he wanted to make that feeling last for as long as he possibly could.

When Reaper pulled his lips away from yours, you tried to follow him, like you still hadn’t had enough of him. Instead, he kissed down your jaw, your pulse line, and then square between your breasts, licking and sucking hard enough to leave angry red marks in his wake. Still clothed from the waist down, he thrust upward and ground his clothed crotch against your pussy. Your heat was apparent even through the fabric, and he began undoing his belt in a hurry. Then you intervened with a gentle hand against his, murmuring, “You’re hurt. Just sit back, and let me handle everything.”

Reaper was too full of impulses and adrenaline to sit back as you’d instructed, but he wanted to see you take charge. He watched you pull his hard, leaking cock from his pants and begin rubbing yourself up against him, and you were already so wet that you hardly needed any prep. You sat yourself down on him and took him in in one go, hardly needing a pause to become acclimated. It was a testament to just how touch-starved you’d been, and Reaper tried to make up for that lost time by thrusting up as harshly as you’d let him. “Good girl.”

You just whined in reply and rode him harder as your hands awkwardly tried to find purchase on a spot on his torso that wasn’t covered in bandages or stitches. In the meantime, he grabbed your waist and pulled you harder and tighter against him, wanting you to be able to feel the passion for you that he’d kept bottled up all this time. Even this position was stifling, as he felt it didn’t allow him to fully express just how badly he wanted you, how badly he needed you.

So, despite your wishes for him to remain passive, he flipped your positions so that you were lying on your back and he was the one on top. One hand held your waist down for him while the other was on your neck, tracing the bites he’d already left and idly squeezing every once in a while. It was never enough to hurt you, but it took your breath away and made you tighten around him. You made him feel alive, and it made him want to rough you up just a bit more than you could take. “Fuck! That’s it, good girl, sweet _fucking_ girl-”

Reaper interrupted himself by leaning down and claiming your lips once again, nipping at you more than actually kissing you. But you didn’t complain, instead reaching behind him to drag your nails down the uninjured portions of his back. This spurred him on and encouraged him to continue biting and marking your skin, specifically around your chest and neck. Only when he moved in to kiss your throat did he realize he was still gripping it tight enough to leave one big hand-shaped bruise. The sight of his marks littering your otherwise unmarred skin was just enough to bring him over the edge, and he pulled out to release on your stomach and heaving chest.

Once the high of his climax faded, he was left with the dull, thudding ache of overexertion that struck him just about everywhere. You must have sensed what he was feeling, as you scooted over just enough to give him room to lie down. He took your offer, but only after reaching into your medkit for a clean rag to wipe off your torso. Then, once he settled next to you, his uninjured hand reached between your legs and made sure you finished too.

You gasped, as if you weren’t expecting him to tend to your needs too, and he felt sufficiently insulted to make sure you experienced the best orgasm you’d ever had. His ring and middle fingers sank in deep and stroked your walls while his thumb deftly and persistently flicked over your swollen clit. The motion easily turned you to putty in his hand, and you turned to curl up against him while keeping your legs wide open. In moving, you’d exposed to him a bit of flesh on your shoulder that had yet to be touched, and he couldn’t resist moving in to leave a soft bite.

That seemed to boost you forward towards that steadily building peak, and you came with a sharp cry and your fist in his hair. You trembled against him as the last waves of euphoria ebbed away, allowing you to finally fall limp in his arms. Even after lying down, Reaper’s heart was still racing, and he suspected that was a product of just having you like this after months of denying everything he felt for you. He brushed your hair out of your eyes and you looked up at him with those starry eyes that made his heart skip a beat. “...Sorry for the marks.”

You closed your eyes and shook your head, that familiar bashful blush spilling all over your cheeks. “I don’t mind. Something to remember you by while you’re gone.”

Hearing you say that made Reaper truly recognize the value you had beyond being a medic, and his grip on you became tighter because of it. “I’m not leaving for a while.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! more of my work is featured at @strikecommanding.tumblr.com


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